


Solace

by VenusTheMarvelTurtle



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men Evolution, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Mentions of Death, OC, Porn With Plot, This is pretty tame if you ask me, apocalyptic verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:34:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3397202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenusTheMarvelTurtle/pseuds/VenusTheMarvelTurtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is shattered by the war between Mutants and Humans. Kurt and Jiao Lan find salvation from the pain within each other, despite the end they can feel rushing towards them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solace

Jiao Lan does not remember how she got here. She never does.

"-Ah-"

Neither of them is the first to initiate it, but it happens all the same. She thinks that maybe he came to her tent, or she came to his, before ceasing to think at all.

This is bad, she knows. This is wrong. They shouldn't. They can't. They're only hurting themselves. They shouldn't keep going.

"H-haah-"

Yet they do.

"Mm, mmm-"

There is no room for this, in the world they suffer through. No place for affection, or attachments, or commitment. Not when the one you love could and probably will be taken from you at any moment. All the same, she's here, and so is he, and that's all that matters right then.

"Oh, ohhh...huh, h-hhh...nnngn..."

He almost died today. It should come as no surprise. She's resigned herself to his death long ago, as he's most definitely done her own. She can feel the bandages coiled thick around his heaving chest rub against her skin as he presses her down into the cot, smell the blood staining the pearly fabric in the dark as they twist and writhe and rut and arch.

"Oooh, OOOH, K-Kurt-"

She blocks out the image of the bullet tearing through his gut, the memory of her own scream burning her throat as she watched him collapse to the ground in a hailstorm of gunfire and coppery splatters. She clutches at him tightly, desperately, locking her mouth on every part of him she can reach and tasting the sparkling electrolytes in his sweat.

They are soldiers now, she and him and everyone else in this godforsaken camp. They aren't supposed to need this, to want this anymore, but they do.

Out there, there's only hatred, and pain, and blood. Fighting. Every day, every minute, every second, every breath. Fighting. So much fighting.

"Ah! Ah!" Gasping, hissing, moaning. She can feel his emotions in the tenseness of his muscles, in the urgent tempo of his thrusts against her, inside her, hard and relentless. Bruising, seeking.

There used to be foreplay, she remembers, back when they were young and stupid, naive, sneaking around the Xavier Institute. They used to make love in the summer, when the sunset and the sounds of the crickets would leak into the windows, giggling mixed in with muffled moans. But not anymore. There is no time for sweet and gentle. They both could die tomorrow.

They probably will. If there is no heaven, then this is all that they will have.

Slim fingers twitching with electric currents bury themselves in midnight blue hair, making it stand on end and holding him closer to her. His tail is wrapped so tightly around her leg she can feel the welt forming even as they continue. Static and panting and the smell of ozone fill the air as the hairs on his arms sizzle. The buzz is growing in her, in her very cells.

It's becoming clear that the war they've been forced to fight will only have one of two outcomes. The humans are trying to force them into extinction. And it's working.

But here, in his arms, she can forget that the world despises them for daring to exist. She can allow herself to ignore that the everything is falling to pieces, and that their lives are all but over. She can disregard that they are considered pariahs, mistakes, cosmic errors.

Here there is only her legs around his waist, his fangs digging into her neck, his hips grinding into hers, and the pleasurably painful tingle rapidly overtaking her veins and senses.

"Z-zündkerze...z-zünk-kerze...Aah..."

Mutie. Freak. Fuck Up. Demon. They forget. Names and words don't matter.

They were not Nightcrawler and LiveWire now, or even X Men. He was Kurt Wagner, and she was Jiao Lan Alvarez. And in these moments, alone and unguarded, they found solace in each other away from the rest of their world.

He traces her scars with his lips, slowing down just slightly to imprint the taste and smell of her in his mind so she is his last memory when he draws his final breath. She arches against him as he reaches down and brushes his thumb oh SO slooowly back and forth over her burning wetness, leaving her whimpering and squealing into his collarbone.

"OhgodohgodKurtKurt-"

"Lanniiiie...ja, ja..." Every hissed word is punctuated with a thrust, and she's coming undone, head thrown back to expose a throat red from his sharp teeth.

Out there was torture, and gore, and death. Concentration camps. Registration. Trask Sentinels. Manhunts. Traitors. Battles. So many battles. Innocuous looking little darts that would viciously rip into and disassemble an X Gene like like wet yarn, tearing them apart in minutes. 

Bullets exploding through Xavier's skull on live television, right in the middle of his speech, leaving them homeless orphans once more. Little kids carrying pistols for political assasinations. Bombed orphanages. Hate rallies. Mass graves.

In here, only trembling bodies, and whispered love. Here there were kisses, and comfort, and tears of pleasure, not sorrow. The blood they draw is on their own accord, oozing sensually from bite wounds and long, burning scratches.

He shifts, and she bites down on his bare shoulder to muffle her scream as he sinks deeper, stroking her from the inside out. The burn is nearly intolerable now, spread everywhere, and she can feel him shuddering over her, growling low in his throat.

"Mmmrrrrggg..."

Electricity dances in jagged arcs over their skin. Faster and faster. He's going to blow. She's losing it.

"S-s-shit, s-s-hitI'mgonna-"

Grunt, grunt. Huff, moan. Pull, push, thrust, thrust, gasp gasp pump slide pump slide squeeze squeeze squeeze OH GOD YES, YES OH GOD-

They were mutants. They were hardened soldiers. They were killers.

They were human. They were hurting, and they needed comfort. So while the world burned around them, they fell into each other and hid for as long as they could. It was never enough, but it was all they could have.


End file.
